


awake with you (better than a dream)

by scepticallyopenminded



Series: sterek holiday special 2018 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alpha Scott, Background Relationships, Blackouts, Drinking, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hale Pack, M/M, Mates, McCall Pack, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Cora Hale/Isaac Lahey, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Multi, New Year's Eve, New Years, New York City, Overuse of italics, POV Alternating, Panic, Spark Stiles Stilinski, True Alpha Derek Hale, Werewolf Lydia, overuse of em dashes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: And maybe - maybe - Derek might be slightly attracted to Stiles. If he’s honest with himself (and just himself, he isn’t about to give his pack the satisfaction of it), he’s been attracted to Stiles since the first meeting. He doesn’t mind listening to Stiles go on and on, he enjoys their conversations, and it doesn’t hurt that Stiles is incredibly hot. Derek might (might) have a slight tattoo and power kink, and Stiles definitely embraces both of those. His body is littered with tattoos, some runes to help him manage his spark and others random and plenty of fandom-related ones. And he’s powerful, his magic flowing through his veins like blood, plenty enough of it that all the ‘wolves can sense it. A light buzzing everywhere Stiles goes, it completely adds to how alluring Stiles is.





	awake with you (better than a dream)

**Author's Note:**

> yes this was supposed to be out NYE or at the latest NYD but forgive me, I had a really shitty NYE and my computer's having lots of trouble rn (if anyone wants to sponsor me and buy me a new computer I'm cool with that) so y'know, here you go.
> 
> title from "Oh My Love" by The Score
> 
> this is a mixture of my fics from my two writing challenges I've done: [ooh yeah, party party, life is a bomb](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3477995) and [c'mon pretty baby](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12919821) and another fic I've had in mind for a while
> 
> See end notes for comments on the blackout tag and panic tags.

Derek likes living in New York City. He likes everything about it; the diversity, how everyone lives their lives and rarely questions how you live yours, how many grocery stores there are and the variety of people each caters to. He loves the noise, it’s comforting because he grew up with a huge pack and there wasn’t ever privacy and so it reminds him of home. He loves walking down the street and eavesdropping on random conversations and hearing people go about their lives without a worry about what’s going on around them.

It’s lovely, though Derek originally left Lockport for the City purely to pursue college at CUNY. He graduated, though, and didn’t leave, and now, ten years later and at twenty-eight years old, he’s in grad school at Columbia. He doesn’t have any plans to leave any time soon, even after he graduates, and he doesn’t think his pack does, either.

Because Derek - at twenty-three, fresh out of CUNY and working at NYPL - took in five betas of his mom’s pack, all eighteen and coming to the city for college as well. Isaac had been bit at sixteen, after Cora had discovered his dad was as abusive fuck and brought him home one day with severe internal injuries that were likely to be fatal. He’d taken to the bite exceptionally well, and had only grown in confidence and self-control. Isaac had brought in Erica, who’d figured it out after becoming good friends with Isaac and Cora, and asked for the bite to help her with her seizures. Boyd had been last, when he’d started dating Erica and the truth revealed to him when they were all seniors in high school. After plenty of training and involvement with the pack, he’d asked for the bite to officially become part of the pack. Though Talia had told him he didn’t need to be a ‘wolf to be in the pack, he’d wanted it, and at eighteen she’d given it.

Derek supposes that Kira wasn’t actually part of his mom’s pack when she’d moved to New York. Moreso his mom and her mom were good friends from way back when, and he’d known Kira since childhood. She’d gone to the same school as Cora, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica and they’d all decided to go to college in the City.

And their sophomore year, they’d all decided to rent a townhome together with Derek, the call of pack strong and besides, it was always cheaper to split rent as many ways as possible. It was still mightily expensive, but split six ways wasn’t too bad.

That year, at twenty-four, still working at NYPL and applying to grad school, looking after four beta ‘wolves and one kitsune, Derek woke up one morning feeling significantly different. He stretched, blinking and yawning and his eyes involuntarily flashed. But instead of their usual gold, red glimmered across his vision.

Derek sat up, reaching for his phone as he went into panic mode because the _only way_ he could be an alpha was -

As he was opening his phone a call from his mom came through and he answered quickly.

“Mom?”

“Derek,” she sighed back, “I thought something was wrong, I felt a - a break, with you and the others. I can’t - ”

“I’m an _alpha_ , mom,” Derek interrupted, confused because the _only_ way he should be an alpha was if his mom and Laura weren’t there anymore. Except if -

“Alpha?” his mom questioned, voice surprised yet intrigued, “Derek, there’s only one way that could be possible.”

“I am _not_ , no way. That’s - just legends, right?” He panicked again - he was never meant for this life, he wasn’t raised for this.

“I’ve never met a true alpha, but they’re certainly more than legends,” Talia mused, “Can you feel a connection to the rest of the pack? Or just to Cora, Isaac, Boyd, Erica?”

He’d still been panicking, but he tried to do as his mom said, feeling out the pack bond. He felt five distinct spots on it; four soft gold, one electric yellow. All within a few meters of him.

“And Kira,” he replied, taking a deep breath as the words came out shaky, “But just. Them. I can’t - I can’t feel _you_ anymore, mom.”

There was been a pause, shuffling, and some whispering just barely low enough Derek couldn’t hear it over the phone before his mom was back.

“I’m going to come down, okay? Bring Deaton with me. We’ll see if we can’t figure out what happened.”

It had taken a few days, his mom and Deaton hanging around the townhome, lots of wide eyes and scared feelings from the entire pack - _his_ entire pack - before they’d realized that he’d come into it on his own. Taking care of Cora, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Kira; sharing the space, being so close; hanging out together so often and just reveling in each other combined with the fact that the ability to become a true alpha had been lying dormant in Derek meant that he _had_ , slowly and gradually until it had snapped, sometime during the night.

It’d been a hard transition. For Derek, having the sudden disconnection from his alpha and from the huge pack he’d been a part of all his life, but also for his entire pack. Isaac, Boyd, Erica, who’d all looked to Talia as their alpha, who’d been _bit_ by her, and all still fresh into their lives as ‘wolves, had a few bad moons. But especially Cora, having been a ‘wolf her entire life, having always looked to Talia not only as her alpha but her mother, she hadn’t had any trouble with control but had felt some deep depression for a few months, unable to fully handle the transition.

Kira, having never been a part of a pack in her life, had to get used to the weird feeling of connection that came with it. Her transition had probably been easiest, but it had still shaken her up for a while.

That had all been four full years ago, and they’d gotten used to being their own little pack now. And they all - everyone of them - _love_ living in the City. Derek can’t see that any of them wanting to move away anytime soon. It had been up for discussion, when they’d all graduated college, but everyone had gotten used to city living by then. Isaac was trying his hand at Broadway, had landed a small role in a big production; Boyd followed Derek’s footsteps into working at the NYPL; Erica was assisting a makeup artist; Cora an assistant to the assistant curator at the Natural History Museum; Kira in an independent bookstore just a few blocks from the house they all still shared. And Derek, while he still worked part time at NYPL, had gone back to grad school at Columbia two years back, rapidly working toward his PhD in Historic Preservation.

They’re happier every day in their little pack, they’re happy in the City, and though they regularly visit Lockport and the larger Hale pack comes down to the City regularly to visit them, everything is starting to seem like it’s fits into Fate’s larger puzzle.

Derek’s happy. Well, almost.

*

“I’ve already told you,” Derek says, grabbing a glass from the cupboard before turning toward the fridge to grab the water pitcher, “I’m not going to the party. I’ve got a dissertation to work on and winter break is the perfect opportunity to do so since that means I’m not teaching any classes right now.”

“Uh huh,” Erica replies from where she’s leaning on the counter, watching him. Derek takes a Coke out of the fridge as well, tossing it toward her, “Except that we _need_ you there, Der. You _never_ go to parties, go to one fucking one on _New Year’s fucking Eve_.”

“We _promise_ we won’t bother you for any more parties for at least six months if you go to this one,” Cora walks into the kitchen, taking one of the protein bars from their stash and ripping into it. She’s dressed in leggings, a light coat, vest, scarf, ear warmers, and running shoes, gloves sticking out of the pocket of her vest, so Derek knows she’s about to go for a run.

“And _that’s_ not a promise you’ll get again anytime soon, so take it,” Erica advises.

“I’m not going to know anybody there,” Derek argues, “And in fact I might even see some of my _students_ there, and like that’s not going to be awkward. Plus, you’ll all be there, which means it’s even better time to do some research and writing since I know I won’t be interrupted by one of you.”

“You know _us_ ,” Cora points out, “ _Plus_ you know it’s at Lydia and Jackson’s place, so the entire McCall pack will be there too. And you know all of them.”

“That also means Stiles’ll be there,” Erica says knowingly, and Derek wills his ears not to turn red.

“I don’t care that Stiles will be there,” he insists, and both Cora and Erica snort at that. Derek thinks he hears Boyd huff in laughter at that too from the bathroom, and Kira very clearly lets out her chime of a laugh from upstairs.

“Dude, you can’t get us like that. We’re your betas, we can literally feel as well as smell how into him you are.”

“Just because I find him attractive doesn’t mean I’m _into_ him,” Derek defends, and the tips of his ears are _very_ red now.

“No, I think that’s really exactly what it means, and besides, we all know it’s both,” Cora replies, eyebrows raised judgingly.

They’re not _wrong_ , anyway, but Derek refuses to give them the satisfaction of that. And if he _did_ admit that yes, Stiles Stilinski, second in the McCall pack and a fairly skilled spark in his own right, intrigued him and he would very, very much like to date him, he knew he’d _never_ hear the end of it. They’d also never stop trying to set them up, and that isn’t such a good idea. The second in one pack becoming involved with the alpha in another?

Even in New York City, where territories don’t exist for pack’s simply because there are too many people, too many packs, too many omegas to make it a viable option, that isn’t a good idea.

Kira walks in the kitchen a moment later dressed nearly identically to Cora except in different colors, and she smiles sweetly at Derek. Innocently, to anyone who doesn’t know her and doesn’t realize exactly how _devious_ she actually is. Regardless, Derek has always had a soft spot for Kira, who’d helped him particularly with the transition into being an alpha and becoming the head of his own pack.

“C’mon. You only have to come ‘til midnight, we can all yell ‘Happy New Year’ to each other, then you can leave if you want to,” she urges, and Derek knows he’s not getting out of this _now_.

He still doesn’t say yes, though when he just takes a drink of water and walks out to the living room where his laptop’s sitting open, the rest of the pack gives a small cheer, knowing they’ve succeeded.

He’s still got five hours ‘til they’ll leave. That’s more than enough time to get some serious research done, if the rest of them will stay away from him until then.

*

Stiles has always had a dream of going to Times Square on New Year’s Eve, and he thinks, having moved to New York City in January of last year, that _this is his year_.

Somehow, his pack talks him out of it, when it’s decided that Lydia and Jackson are going to throw a big ass bash in their swanky high rise condo for New Year’s Eve, anyway.

“There’s always next year,” Scott tells him, “Or the year after that, or after that, or really your entire life.”

“I wanted to _this year_ ,” Stiles grumbles in reply, rolling his eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Allison says slyly, and Stiles squints his eyes at her because he _knows_ the next thing out of her mouth is going to be something he’s not particularly wanting to hear, “Erica told me there’s no way they’re letting Derek out of going.”

Stiles actually hates a little bit that three of his friends are werewolves and one of them a werecoyote, because their heightened hearing allows them to _hear_ the skip in his heart when Allison mentions Derek’s name and it’s _so not fair_. He gets four sets of raised eyebrows pointed at him and he refuses to look at any of them in the eye.

“Plus lots of free alcohol, you’re welcome,” Lydia says after a long moment where everyone’s smirking at him.

“Might make it worth it,” Stiles concedes.

Scott grins at him.

*

When the rogue alpha had bitten Scott, Jackson, and Lydia, Stiles’ life was turned upside down. He’d been a moderately normal twenty-one year old who just wanted to graduate college, get drunk on the weekends _legally_ , have enough money to live his best life, and hang out with his friends.

All it had taken was one night during summer break, a few scratched up bodies in the Preserve, a mystery the police department couldn’t figure out, an overly curious Stiles, a bored Lydia, a jealous Jackson, a compliant Scott, and an interested Allison for their lives - and Stiles doesn’t regret but does apologize for describing it this way but it’s the _only thing he thinks about_ every time he thinks about that night – to get flipped turned upside down.

It had taken the rest of the summer, some help from the local pack, and lots of research and freaking out on the part of Lydia, Scott, Jackson, Stiles, and Allison to hunt down the rogue alpha and for Scott to take him out. It was _then_ that Allison, Scott’s longtime girlfriend, found out her family was full of hunters of supernatural creatures, when her dad had straight out asked Scott about how long he’d been a werewolf during an otherwise normal family dinner.

It’d been a shit show. Luckily, Allison’s dad was strict about them following a code, had a good alliance with the local pack, and since Scott and Co. seemed to be in fairly good control for just having been bitten, everything ended up fine.

They’d gotten some training from the local pack on how to control their newfound abilities while Stiles and Allison hung back, feeling a little left out that _they_ hadn’t gotten bitten but also grateful that they didn’t have to shift to this new way in life, and then they all had to go back to finish out their last year of college, huddling together even more than they had before this, a _pack_ in their own right with a twenty-one-year-old alpha who could barely contain his own powers besides take care of his betas, his hunter girlfriend, and what-the-fuck-ever _Stiles_ was.

It was during their senior year at UCLA that they’d had a run in with a witch who tried to steal the power the pack had, and it had awoken dormant powers in Stiles, which had led to _more_ freaking out, lots of research, and some consultations with any supernatural creature they could find in the area to figure out that Stiles was something called a spark: a magical creature with undefined amounts of power, probably hereditary and it felt _crazy_ in the moment but after lots of practice, some particular tattoos of runes, and too many late nights to make sure he was able to still graduate on time and _yet_ figure out what the fuck was happening with him, Stiles had gotten the hang of it.

They’d spent the remaining time in LA becoming a real pack.

It was obvious, within the first month of being back in Beacon Hills, that it wasn’t going to work, though. None of them felt comfortable in the town, and the local pack didn’t feel comfortable with another pack on their territory, either. It had taken a full few weeks, lots of squabbling, and some serious talks before they decided they needed to move.

The local alpha, who was as rational as she was territorial, suggested a big city: LA, Chicago, New York City, Dallas, Phoenix. If they were feeling international, maybe London or France.

They thought long and hard about Los Angeles, since they liked the city already, knew it, and it was still close enough to Beacon Hills to visit regularly and they all knew _no way_ their families were going to leave the place, but in the end it had been Lydia’s acceptance into a grad program at NYU that had solidified _that_ path.

It was November, just a few days before Thanksgiving and a few days after Stiles’ twenty-third birthday, two months before they were supposed to leave for New York, that Malia had fallen into their lives. _Literally_ , considering the pack had been out for a full-moon run (the Preserve split into two halves until the McCall pack left, to avoid any unnecessary territory disputes during full moons) when Malia had actually fallen out of a tree. They’d thought at first she was just a normal coyote, all appearances as such, until Scott had gotten a whiff and, after honing his scenting skills for the better part of a year and a half, realized she was _human_. At least, partially.

The next morning they got her to turn back to human, and she’d stumbled around confused and angry for the entire day. They’d taken her to the local pack, and after much goading, a long shower with the help of Allison and Lydia, and some food, she’d told them her life story.

She’d turned into a coyote for the first time at thirteen during a normal family dinner, causing her family to freak out and she’d gotten defensive. Luckily, she’d gotten out of the house with minimal lacerations and only one broken window and ran.

She was unsure of the timeline exactly, but she knew she’d lived near Chico before, which was nearly a hundred and fifty miles from Beacon Hills. A hell of a long way for a thirteen-year-old to travel, even if she’d been a coyote during the time.

She’d lived in the Preserve for years, careful to cover her tracks and only occasionally turning back to human to bathe sometimes in the river on the far edge.

Although unsure of the time it’d been since she’d turned, Malia _had_ to be around their age, and she supposed she was as well.

The local alpha and Scott had talked at length about it, and since it seemed she already had an attachment to Lydia, they’d agreed to take her into _their_ pack if she wanted.

She’d wanted.

Two months later, midway into January, the pack flew to New York City. Three werewolves, one werecoyote, a spark, and a hunter.

*

“It’s fucking time to leave y’all!” Erica shouts, and Derek winces from where he’s tying his shoes in his bedroom. They’re all fucking weres, they all have great hearing, and Derek doesn’t understand Erica’s eternal need to yell. He hears Cora grumbling from her and Isaac’s room, and glances up in time to see them passing in the hall, Kira right behind them talking animatedly about Malia. Even if he couldn’t hear what they were saying, he would be able to tell from the indulgent smiles both Cora and Isaac have on their faces.

Derek supposes he has nobody to blame for all of this other than himself, considering _he_ was the first to meet one of the McCall pack when he met Lydia at a mixer one of his professors did. It isn’t exactly unusual to meet other ‘wolves in the City, but it’s remarkably rarer to have social interactions with one. Lydia had been the one to approach him after the mixer, her neck subtly bared in respect and smiling, though her eyes had been sharp, critical.

“Lydia Martin, McCall pack,” she’d introduced herself as. Derek had nodded.

“Derek Hale, alpha of the Hale pack.”

They’d talked for a while, partly about their different degree programs they were in, partly about how the McCall pack was new to the city. Derek, knowing that while his pack loved each other and got along pretty well most of the time also would like to meet more people around their age who were also supernatural, had suggested they meet up sometime, maybe for dinner. He’d left his card with Lydia, who exchanged it for one of her own.

As he’d suspected, when he told his pack about this they were excited.

They all decided to meet for dinner at a chain restaurant, and at first it had been...tense. Lydia and Derek greeted each other civilly enough, having been in contact since they met a week earlier. Everyone else seemed unsure for all of about two minutes as everyone sat around the four tables that had been pushed together to fit their party of twelve.

By the time they were ready to order, though, Malia and Cora were deep in conversation with Kira throwing in something every couple of minutes, Isaac was getting along very well with Scott, Lydia and Erica were debating different makeup brands while Jackson watched on with clear amusement, Boyd and Allison discussing archery, apparently both having went to Nationals twice during their teenage years, and Stiles was nearly talking Derek’s ear off after Derek’d noticed a Gallifreyan tattoo on Stiles’ forearm and asked about it.

It went well, all in all, and it was just a few days later that everyone started hanging out more.

One to two members of the McCall pack are at the Hale townhome on the daily; Kira and Malia, one year later, are on the edge of probably dating; Isaac and Cora regularly go on double dates with Allison and Scott; Erica and Stiles go to all the opening nights of superhero movies together; Cora, Malia, and Jackson work out together all the time; Stiles and Derek are both big fans of the nerdiest movies and TV shows and watch together; Boyd and Allison go shooting at the range together occasionally; Boyd and Stiles have conversations about philosophy;  Derek and Lydia continue to attend mixers together, even though their degrees are in wildly different subjects and they attend different universities.

And maybe - _maybe_ \- Derek might be slightly attracted to Stiles. If he’s honest with himself (and _just_ himself, he isn’t about to give his pack the satisfaction of it), he’s been attracted to Stiles since the first meeting. He doesn’t mind listening to Stiles go on and on, he enjoys their conversations, and it doesn’t hurt that Stiles is incredibly hot. Derek might ( _might_ ) have a slight tattoo and power kink, and Stiles definitely embraces _both_ of those. His body is littered with tattoos, some runes to help him manage his spark and others random and plenty of fandom-related ones. And he’s _powerful_ , his magic flowing through his veins like blood, plenty enough of it that all the ‘wolves can sense it. A light buzzing everywhere Stiles goes, it completely adds to how alluring Stiles is.

“Derek! Come the fuck on!” Erica yells again, and Derek winces again. He hears the rest of the pack grumbling where they’re congregated in the living room, and he stands, grabbing his coat and joining them.

*

Stiles - Stiles might be kind of drunk, just buzzed. He’s infinitely glad that most of the people in attendance at this party are supernatural because he can’t really help how his spark reacts when he’s been drinking, and his eyes _might_ be glowing a little.

He’s sober enough to be aware of his surroundings, but it’s also only eleven p.m. They’ve got one more whole hour before the countdown and the dining room, where all the furniture has been moved to leave a wide-open hardwood dance floor, is packed. It’s actually a little much for Stiles, and he isn’t quite sure how it’s not too much for all the ‘wolves who seem to be happily smooshed together in a mosh-pit like middle. He’s been standing in the doorway of the kitchen watching his pack for the last little while, avoiding it but also feeling the contentment and excitement and joy through the pack bond of the rest of them.

“Good night?” a voice asks behind him, and it’s probably not a good thing that Stiles didn’t hear anyone come up behind him but also, he thinks when he realizes it’s _Derek_ , ‘wolves have a talent at being near silent. It’s a problem, really, and he doesn’t care to think about how many times Scott and Allison have come home to him in the middle of a hookup in the living room and he hasn’t heard them.

They also try not to think about it. Honestly Stiles should just stop hooking up in the living room, but he has trouble learning lessons.

“Suppose so,” Stiles sighs, taking a sip of the vodka in his cup, “Wanted to go to Times Square, but this is almost as good.”

“Hmmm,” Derek hums, leaning against the doorjamb on the opposite side as Stiles, “I’ve always wanted to go, too.”

Stiles looks over, squinting at the other man.

“You’ve lived here ten years and you haven’t gone?”

Derek looks over at him as well and laughs, shaking his head. He has a cup of something as well, and Stiles leans over, glances in. He thinks it's probably some of the wolfsbane whiskey he’d been in charge of whipping up.

“A lot of people live in NYC their entire lives without going,” he pauses, looks back out into the dining room. Stiles continues staring at him because he’s _pretty_ , okay, and Stiles likes looking at pretty people.

“Maybe next year,” Derek continues, “We should go.”

Stiles has a flash of images - him and Derek, in Times Square, counting down. Maybe Derek would lean over at midnight, kiss him.

Stiles looks back out at the dance floor again, avoiding eye contact with Derek as his face heats up.

“We should,” he agrees.

*

It’s eleven fifty-five when he wanders out onto the balcony for a moment, the apartment starting to get a little stuffy. He passes a couple - he thinks they’re friends of Jackson’s from the non-profit he’s working for while applying to law school - on his way out. There’s someone else on the balcony, breath coming out in puffs against the cold winter air, and once Stiles’ eyes adjust he realizes it’s Derek. He looks over at him, sees its Stiles, and lets his eyes bleed light red - probably to help with how dark it is, the balcony unlit except for the barely-there backdrop from the living room coming through the sliding doors.

Stiles opens his free hand, a small ball of blue light coming from his palm and floating over toward Derek, who watches it with red eyes until it stops a few inches, settling just above his head. Stiles joins him, leaning against the railing and looking out over the city. Though much quieter than inside, where music is still booming even through the door, Stiles can hear the shouting and screams and a siren off in the distance, very much what he expected from New Year’s Eve in New York City.

“Hey,” he starts, setting the beer in his hand on the ledge and turns his head to look at Derek. Derek’s eyes fade back to their usual color - maybe green, greyish, with little bits of blue and gold. Not that Stiles has studied Derek’s eyes or anything.

“Hey,” Derek replies, “Almost another year over.”

“Almost been a year since we moved here,” Stiles says.

“Everything you thought it would be?” Derek asks. Stiles thinks about it for a moment, looking back out, feeling Derek’s eyes still on him.

“Some of it.” Stiles glances over the lit up city beneath them for a minute before shifting his gaze back to Derek. He can’t help what comes out of his mouth as they look each other in the eyes.

“Some of it was really good.”

“One minute!” someone inside shouts, and both Derek and Stiles startle, glancing behind them into the darkened living room. The movement causes them to shuffle just a hair closer together, and when Stiles looks back Derek’s face is just a few inches from his own.

“One minute,” Derek repeats lowly, Stiles just able to make it out. His heartbeat picks up, shouts from the street below getting louder and their breath is mingling into one white cloud, drifting up toward the blue light still hung above their heads. Derek cocks his head slightly to one side, and Stiles would _so_ make fun of him for it (his pack have heard _all_ his best dog jokes already, Stiles needs a new crowd) if he wasn’t so unsure if they’re having a _moment_ or not.

“You okay?” he asks, and Stiles realizes Derek’s listening to his heart.

“Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

There’s a sudden uproar, and everyone counting down almost in perfect unison, both from below and behind them.

“You okay with this?” Derek questions next, and Stiles nods as the countdown hits “five!”, sincerely hoping that “this” is exactly what he thinks it is.

It’s when everyone’s shouting “Happy New Year!”, lots of screaming and yelling, that Derek leans forward, lips gentle against Stiles. It’s only a moment of that before Stiles pushes back, hands going to Derek’s face and there’s a small _zing_ that goes through his body, what Stiles assumes is his magic reacting to his body’s reaction to Derek _finally_ kissing him. Derek lets out a small, surprised sound, like maybe he wasn’t quite sure that Stiles would respond well, before he’s pressed against the wall, Derek’s lips desperate against his own.

The sliding door is suddenly opening, and they break apart quickly, the orb of light zipping quickly back into Stiles’ body and Derek’s eyes bleed red again to adjust. Luckily, it’s only Scott, huge smile, completely and obviously oblivious to what had been happening before he’d interrupted.

“Dude!” he yells at Stiles, “Body shots!”

Stiles’ hand is still gripped around Derek’s forearm, Derek’s hand on the small of Stiles’ back.

“Really?” Derek grumbles, eyebrows raised judgingly, and Scott’s eyes slide over to Derek, still grinning.

“Erica’s idea,” he tells Derek, who rolls his eyes. There’s a fond look on his face anyway, and Stiles slips his hand down from Derek’s forearm to his hand and pulls him along, smile on his own face and his heartbeat is still faster than it should be, but Derek doesn’t pull away.

Scott continues to be oblivious, and as soon as they make it to the kitchen, where Jackson’s on the island, sans shirt, and Isaac is taking a shot off him. Stiles would laugh, but honestly both Jackson and Isaac are hot and when Stiles drinks he gets a bit horny so it more turns him on a little.

Derek’s nostrils flare from next to him, and he squeezes where their hands are still interconnected. Stiles looks over, smiles at him and squeezes back.

He feels like it’s a start to something.

*

When Stiles wakes up in the morning he’s on a bed that’s too big (like, truly _massive_ ) and soft to be his lumpy full-size. He blinks, sitting up and looking around at a room that’s definitely not his or one he recognizes at _all_. It’s dark beige, two big windows on either side of the actually huge bed (it’s gotta be a king, and Stiles is _jealous_ ) letting in plenty of sunlight. Along with the mattress and bedframe, there’s an open closet filled with clothes, most of them dark in hue yet still clearly separated by color, a dresser with an attached mirror which houses only two bottles of cologne, a small ornately-carved box with a lock on it, and a picture that Stiles  can’t make out from the bed, and a bedside table on the left side of the bed that has a table lamp, a book, and a glass of water along with a small bottle of Advil.

Now that he thinks about it, Stiles head hurts a little and he’s feeling a bit nauseous. Though being a spark helps him recover faster from being drunk, there’s still some repercussions, and Stiles only hopes that the water and Advil were meant for him as he pops the cap, takes two, and downs the entire glass of water in one go.

A laugh rings from what he thinks is downstairs, a laugh Stiles thinks he recognizes but can’t place, not right now. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes as the room spins for a moment. He thinks, but the last thing he remembers is taking a shot off – maybe Lydia, a blur of red hair flashing through his mind. There’s bits and pieces too: him and Scott dancing, everyone but the two packs leaving as the night wore on, a game of truth or dare, and, flashing brightly before his eyes, definitely him and Derek kissing again.

Stiles groans lowly, the background conversation coming from downstairs coming to a halt. He blinks against the images in front of him, but he’s not dizzy anymore at least.

There’s more conversation downstairs, then he hears a door slamming and silence again. He gets up, walking a bit closer to the dresser and squinting down at the photo. It’s a family shot, he realizes, recognizing Derek, Cora, Laura, and their mother Talia, though he's only briefly met her twice. . There’s also an older man, Derek's stepdad by everyone's age in the photo, and two younger kids, maybe ten or eleven - probably the twins.

This has to be Derek’s room, he thinks as he looks back over at the closet. Though he frequents the Hale house often, he’s only ever been downstairs and once in Erica and Boyd’s room to help her pick out an outfit for a work function. Which, what? What? Why’s he in Derek’s room exactly?

He knows he’s starting to panic, heartbeat rabbiting up, but Stiles can’t _help_ it. He looks down at himself, and he’s still in his clothes from last night, so nothing probably happened, but that doesn’t completely stop Stiles’ freak out. He’s blacked out before, not often but it’s nothing exactly new no matter how much he actually hates the feeling, but he’s always ended back up at home, his friends taking care of him, and he’s certainly never ended up in someone else’s bedroom after a blackout night.

Stiles doesn’t slip into a panic attack, luckily, his heartbeat slowing after a moment – he’s still freaked out since he last remembers being at Jackson and Lydia’s place, but. He _trusts_ the Hale pack, knows them to be good people, and he trusts Derek. He may not remember, but he has no doubt he’s _okay_ , he’s _safe_ , even if he’s uncomfortable.

He takes a deep breath, rubs his eyes again, glances around the room and sees a bathroom off one side, stumbles toward it.

He looks in the mirror as he’s washing his hands, grimacing as he takes in his reflection. His eyes are just this side of puffy and red, he has massive bedhead, and his clothes are crumpled. He throws some water on his face, runs his wet fingers through his hair until it looks manageable, and – well, he _did_ sleep in his clothes, there’s not much to be done about that.

He recognizes the place as the Hale house as soon as he’s out in the hallway, and when his feet hit the last step he sees Derek in the kitchen. He’s alone, and Stiles doesn’t see anyone else in the living room either. He watches Derek, who’s at the stove, for a moment, a pit of anxiety in his stomach, butterflies in his chest, and his heart flutters.

He certainly hopes that Derek kissing him wasn’t just a one-off situation. He may not remember a whole lot from the previous night but he certainly remembers that it felt right. He’s been into Derek for a while, sure, who the fuck wouldn’t be, but it was _more_ than that.

The look on Derek’s face when he finally glances over throws out some of Stiles’ doubts, though. Derek smiles as he turns, and his eyes search Stiles for a moment before either of them speak.

“Morning,” Derek comments, and Stiles feels a tingle go through him again just at his voice.

“Good morning,” he returns, walking the rest of the way into the kitchen. Derek gestures to the breakfast nook at the end of the kitchen, turning back around to stir what Stiles thinks is hash.

“Coffee?” he asks, setting down the spatula and raising his eyebrows. Stiles groans - actually does, and he’s only partially embarrassed that the noise comes out of his mouth without his consent - and nods gratefully, folding one of his legs under him as he sits on the bench.

“You look amazingly well-rested for how drunk you were last night,” Derek continues, pulling a mug out of a cupboard and filling it with coffee, “Sugar or milk?”

“Almond milk, if you have it?” Stiles requests, “And well. Witch and all that.”

Derek brings him his coffee and a box of almond milk, setting them on the table in front of Stiles.

“Being a witch helps with hangovers?”

“It does,” Stiles tells him, pouring out some milk and taking a grateful sip of coffee. It’s _excellent_ , and Stiles lets out another groan that Derek laughs at.

“’m making egg and potato hash, if you’re interested, and some bacon. Or, we have vegan bacon in the fridge and whatever else I can fix you?”

“I’m not veg or vegan,” Stiles tells him, watching as Derek stirs the hash again, “Hash and bacon sounds good, thank you.”

A short silence falls as Derek grabs some plates and Stiles thinks about how to approach the subject of what the _hell_ happened last night that he ended up at the Hale house and also, if Stiles is feeling particularly brave, what’s going on between _them_.

He goes in an entirely different direction, though.

“I didn’t know ‘wolves could be vegan,” he comments, taking another drink. Derek smiles, portioning out some food onto the two plates.

“We’re still mostly human, though no telling what we’ll crave on a full moon,” Derek replies, “But none of us are. Kira’s vegetarian.”

Derek brings the plates over as well as some silverware, placing one in front of Stiles who nods gratefully. After a few bites, another groan of satisfaction from Stiles because it’s damn _good_ , and a couple of compliments on Derek’s cooking skill, it’s Derek who brings it up.

“So how much do you remember from last night? You were pretty out of it by the end,” he says conversationally, and Stiles winces, taking a bite of bacon.

“A lot less than I should,” Stiles recalls, “Being a witch might help with hangovers, but it does not help with missing memories. I haven’t gotten that smashed since junior year of college. I’m not sure how I did last night; I hate blacking out.”

There’s a pause as Stiles thinks about it, but no more flashes come to him.

“I don’t know? I remember the body shots, um - I think I remember a game of truth or dare, though there’s only bits and pieces?”

Derek laughs, nodding.

“That happened just before three a.m., after everyone else had filed out for the night. Learned way too much about my pack I didn’t want to know.”

Stiles smiles, knowing the same would probably be said for him if he remembered anything. He loves his pack like family, but there are some things better kept to themselves (and he already knows too much about Allison, bless her, thanks to Scott’s mouth and his penchant for oversharing).

“I don’t remember any particular answers, though I have pretty distinct memories of Isaac doing a handstand and Erica and Lydia kissing that I really hope I didn’t make up because that’d be so weird of my mind to dream up.”

Derek squinches his nose up, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that definitely happened. Erica and Boyd stayed over there last night, though I really don’t wanna think about what happened _there_.”

“Oooh,” Stiles replies, imagining it for just a moment before - yeah, he’s not sure he wants to go there right now, either. He shakes his head.

“I, uh, that’s pretty much the last thing I can remember, though. I really don’t know how I ended up here?”

 Derek nods, swallowing the food in his mouth and taking a drink of his own coffee.

“Uh, well, you pretty much made that decision,” he says, looking out the window to the left of the little nook, and his ears are turning _red_ , god, it’s actually too cute and Stiles is _in so fucking deep_ , “Um. Well, to quote you, you said, ‘I just wanna wake up to your fuckin’ face, Derek,’ and, uh, wouldn’t let me leave without you?”

And now Stiles face is flaming, _god_ , he’s embarrassing, why does he ever let himself get drunk, it was a terrible idea and he should have _known_ better, he’s never been good at holding his mouth shut when he’s _sober_. It’s beyond discomfiting, and it doesn’t make Stiles feel any better that Derek’s obviously embarrassed to repeat it.

“Did I say anything else humiliating?” Stiles mumbles from behind his hands, which are splayed dramatically over his face as if that can stop his mortification. At least he doesn’t have to face Derek through it all, and he refuses to open his eyes to peek through his finger to look at the man.

“Uh,” Derek replies, pitched too high to mean anything _good_ , “Well. You whispered some pretty graphic things to me on the subway back?”

Yeah, Stiles is _never_ going to be able to look Derek in the eye again. No matter that they totally kissed at least twice the previous night, no matter that they were relatively good friends as is, Stiles is _melting_ from the shame.

“I. Am. _So_. Sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut even more and there is no way he’s ever going to live this down.

“I’m not,” Derek says, and _that_ makes Stiles whip his hands from his face, eyes going wide and Derek is _smirking_ at him. His ears and cheeks are still tinged red but he’s exuding confidence, amusement even, and Stiles – _what_.

“What,” he deadpans, unable to lift his voice in a question because he is dead _shocked_. Derek shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee and _still_ smirking at Stiles.

“I think it was pretty obvious last night how into you I am.”

Stiles – he squints at Derek, unable to quite believe what he’s hearing. On one hand – duh. Derek _kissed_ him, more than once, but what exactly did that _mean_?

“Like – you’re into me, you like my personality, you wanna wake up to my face too, kinda into me, or like, you wanna be _into_ me?” he asks, and Derek stares at him for a moment like he’s crazy which – Stiles might be. He doesn’t know for sure.

“Both,” Derek eventually answers slowly, smiling again, “If that’s okay with you.”

“So okay with me,” Stiles breathes back quickly, and – he _really_ wants to kiss Derek again.

“There’s probably one more thing you should know,” Derek says before Stiles gets a chance to do just that, and his face has dropped to serious, and he’s biting his lip as if nervous, agitated.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed last night – usually humans can’t really, though you’re not technically human, but – uh, well, when ‘wolves kiss, uh, or rather initiate any sort of romantic touch with their, uh, their mates – ”

“The – the electricity,” Stiles remembers, blinking as he thinks about it, _oh_ , “You mean the, like, lighting-feeling when we kissed?”

“Um.” Derek nods, watching Stiles again with worried eyes and also maybe sort of confused. “So you did feel it.”

“That – ” Stiles’ mind is whirling, thinking. Everyone’s pretty sure Jackson and Lydia and Scott and Allison are mates – fated, by whatever magic filtered through that, for their respective ‘wolves – but as they were all already together when they turned ‘wolfish, none of what precluded mates – which Stiles has done _some_ research on, because it’s interesting and another unusual part of the supernatural – happened to them.

But. Now that he _thinks_ about all that he knows, and he should have realized it the previous night and he only blames it on the environment they were in, the celebrations going on around them, and the fact that even at that first kiss he was starting to get buzzed that he _didn’t_ notice.

“You think that _we_ are – ” Stiles gestures between himself and Derek, who nods.

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” he responds, “Not – I mean, not that it _really_ matters beyond what exactly it means, because I’ve been into you for – a long while.”

That, without even the factor of touch because they’re still sitting opposite each other in a breakfast nook with a table and plenty of food and coffee between them, that makes Stiles feel tingly.

“Same,” he tells Derek, who’s expression breaks into a smile again and he’s honestly – especially in this sunlight pouring through the window gently alighting his features, alone – beautiful. It’s not the first time Stiles has thought that, but it doesn’t make it any less true now.

“Well, I don’t know how much you know about mates – ”

“A lot,” Stiles interrupts, and at Derek’s unamused look mimes locking his lips shut. Derek’s not exactly an open book, it can take a lot out of him to talk about his feelings, Stiles knows this not only from his own minimal experience but from the plenty of teasing that his pack gives him on a regular basis about it, so he’s going to let Derek spit out whatever he wants to say.

“Then you probably know – mates aren’t an end-all-be-all. I mean, plenty of ‘wolves who find their mates do stay with them their entire lives, but it’s more just that we’re well-matched. So,” he pauses, searching Stiles’ face for something. Stiles doesn’t know if he finds it, but he raises his eyebrows, silently encouraging Derek to continue.

“So if you want to, we can – proceed with a normal relationship. Do all the normal things, go out on dates, etc. and etc. and just – know in the background that Fate, whatever that is, thinks that we’re good for each other. And. _I_ really want to.”

Stiles waits a moment before responding to make sure Derek is finished.

“I do too,” he eventually says, “I want to.”

They’re bathed once again in silence, but it’s happy. They’re both smiling at each other and it feels good. Nonetheless, Stiles is impatient, and he breaks it after just a moment.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurts out, because _damn_ does he want to.

Rather than respond, Derek reaches over and in just a half a second Stiles is pulled around the table and settled nicely on Derek’s lap and Derek’s kissing him and – yeah. That feels good too.

 “Okay,” he breathes as they break apart, but it’s just a second before they’re lips are meeting again and after a hefty few moments Stiles’ hands have found their way beneath Derek’s shirt and there’s some light grinding and –

“I’m totally cool with taking things slow,” he murmurs, forehead pressed against Derek’s and his beautiful rainbow eyes are flecked with red and it’s hotter than Stiles is willing to admit, “But also, if you wanna maybe move things to your bedroom right now I’m good with that, too.”

Derek does something between a growl and a whimper and Stiles would normally totally make fun of him for it, but Derek turns and _picks_ him up, situating Stiles’ legs around his waist and Derek’s hands are on his ass (for support, Stiles knows, but it’s still _awesome_ ) and Stiles’ brain functions cease beyond _right here, right now_.

“Yeah, let’s,” Derek agrees, already halfway to the stairs and Stiles laughs, pressing his lips to Derek’s neck, a thrum going through him already regardless of his non-wolfitude, a continuous pump of _mine, mate_.

**Author's Note:**

> so first off: Stiles does get blackout, and he doesn't remember everything that happens NYE. It's only referenced to a few times in the middle of the fic but I know that can be problematic for some people so you know! He also has the beginning of a panic attack when he realizes he's not at home and can't remember how he got where he is, but he's able to calm himself down and the story moves on. let me know if I missed any other tags!
> 
> second off: I do plan on doing a fic for each major holiday for this entire calendar year (2018), as you might be able to infer from the series title. idk which holidays exactly but we shall see! I know my next one is going to be valentine's day. all fics will be a part of this universe, as you'll see.
> 
> third: idk when I'm going to continue on everyone's at it. I've been trying to write the next part but it's just not coming to me. it's not an abandoned fic yet, but I'm probably going to work on other things while I trump up motivation, and I'm probably going to write a few hundred words here and there. I know I've promised the next part to it a few times, but every time I actually sit down to write it I get a little bit out and then i just can't anymore. I do apologize, I know a lot of people like that fic!
> 
> fourth: please don't post my stuff on goodreads or like sites. you can find me at [asocialfoxpaw](http://asocialfoxpaw.tumblr.com).


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